


Legs Made of Lead

by lowermiddlechild



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Snapshot style, a story about growing up, its about family ties, life is tough but so are you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowermiddlechild/pseuds/lowermiddlechild
Summary: Just a boy growing upUshijima's life in snips





	Legs Made of Lead

**Author's Note:**

> so i originally wrote this for the ushijima zine! i actually really love this little fic and i wanted to post it even though its not really like a big hit getter type thing. please enjoy and let me know if you liked it : )

It starts when Wakatoshi is four years old and he doesn’t even understand what it is. An itch in his palms, the intense need to move, the feeling that sitting still will do absolutely nothing for him. He tells his father this when it’s naptime but the man only laughs and tucks his blanket in a little tighter around his small body. 

Small now, but Wakatoshi will be big. He hears his father brag about it to his friends at the annual company Christmas party just after he turns six. He’ll be big, he’ll be tall, and apparently this is a good thing. Wakatoshi takes it in stride. He still has that need to move and has managed to join a group of children playing hide and seek and it’s helping but it’s not enough, not until he finds every single one of them, even that one boy with the wild red hair that likes to hide in the most ridiculous places. He’s not worried. In time, Wakatoshi’ll find him too.

When he’s seven his father introduces him to volleyball. Just simple things at first, little drills he can practice on his own. He’s started elementary school but friends are difficult to make. He’s a quiet child and his silence is often mistaken for shyness. He doesn’t mind too much. He’s found volleyball; his days are full. 

He spends mornings going on runs with his father, tricycle pedals flying as he works to keep up with him. After that it’s home for a shower and breakfast and then off to school where he excels in math and art and pretends to like English class for the sake of his poor harried teacher. He is then shuffled down to the afterschool care to work on what is quickly becoming the most impressive lego castle that the afterschool teacher has ever seen. Wakatoshi is home again by six and if he gets the rice maker working fast enough, he’ll have time to go out and practice volleyball for an hour until his father comes home, tired but happy to see him. It’s a busy life and by the time his father tucks him in at night, he’s exhausted.

He meets his mother when he’s nine years old. The graveyard is in his grandparents town, a full three hours away by train. His father is at the entrance to the graveyard having an “adult conversation” with his grandparents. Wakatoshi stands in front of her gravestone unsure for a moment, and then kneels down in front of it, in position to pray, though he isn’t sure what for. He stays that way, thankful that he’s too far away to hear what his father is saying to his grandparents. The weather is good today, he thinks, though he could see why some people would disagree. The grey sky doesn’t exactly look beautiful, and the wind blowing through the leaves at his feet suggest a future storm, but for now it’s dry and he’s thankful for that too.

At age ten his father signs him up to play volleyball on his elementary school’s recreational team. Wakatoshi can feel the itch in his fingertips on the first day and the feeling builds and builds throughout practice until he is finally given a chance to try spiking. In the moment that his palm makes contact with the ball it all changes. The itch becomes a roar and Wakatoshi has never felt this way before. It’s exhilarating. That night when he goes home he talks more than he ever has before, asking a million questions about volleyball and his father looks both exhausted and pleased.

It’s his second year of middle school when he is first called an ‘ace.’ It’s nothing definite, just someone in the stands mentioning a possible future for the kid who hits left-handed spikes, but the very word lights a fire in Wakatoshi that he’s never experienced before. Ace. He could be an ace. The ace the is best on the team, the most dependable attacker. His father was an ace. All at once Wakatoshi has a concrete dream. He goes home that night and practices until his arm aches and his muscles burn but the pain feels good and he smiles.

That night his father slips in well past when he’s normally home and quietly tries to stumble up to his room. It isn’t until Wakatoshi hears his father fall down the stairs that he realizes he’s home and rushes over to help him to his feet. He ignores the sour smell on his breath and carries his father to his room, arms aching for an entirely different reason now.

Wakatoshi has never known his mother. He reasons that this is why he doesn’t miss her the way his father does. How can you miss what you never had? For him the loss of his mother feels less like an ache and more like a hole, but for his father it is a constant pain. Wakatoshi can see it in the tightness of his eyes every time she’s brought up. It hurts to see his father like this but Wakatoshi doesn’t know what he can do to help, so he does the best he can to make life easier for his father and avoids the topic of his mother all together.

One night during his first year of high school Wakatoshi comes home as usual and prepares dinner without a word. He sets up the rice cooker after laying a blanket over his father, asleep on the couch. His new night job is taking a lot out of him. It only takes an hour for Wakatoshi to finish dinner but he hesitates, not wanting to wake his father. Instead he makes a plate for him and places it in the fridge before eating a hurried meal himself and cleaning up. He spends the rest of the night practicing spikes against the apartment complex’s wall until it is too dark to see, the need to move is diminished, and his arms ache more than his heart. 

He doesn’t know why he’s bothered. All said and done, this is a fairly normal event in his life now. He knows that his father is only doing what is necessary to provide for the two of them. Still, the logic of it all doesn’t make him feel any better as he lays in bed that night and the itch returns. Wakatoshi goes for a run and is out long enough to see the sun rise and calm the tightness in his mind.

It’s his last year to make nationals. Shiratorizawa has been in the top of the prefecture for years. Wakatoshi doesn’t get passionate about many things, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t lead them to victory again this year. The match against Aoba Josai is always one of the most difficult matches of the entire year. Oikawa is in a category of his own, and the rest of his team backs him in the most amazing way. They are a fine tuned machine but Wakatoshi will tear them apart with his bare hands if he has to. He’s never wanted anything the way he wants to win this match.

He spends at least two solid weeks worth of dinners talking about it to his dad. His father sits across from him at the dinner table, drink in hand more often than not, and listens with his eyes half closed as his son talks more than he has in his entire 17 years of life.

The actual match is incredible. Wakatoshi feels like he’s on fire the entire game and his long hours of practice pay off as the match drags on and his stamina is tested to its very limits. They’re nearing the end of the last set and his arms feel like they could fall off at any moment, his legs are made of lead, his voice hoarse from calling for the ball so often. It’s the final time out and he happens to look up into the crowd, just for a moment, but what he sees makes his eyes go wide.

His father stands near the door, worn down, Wakatoshi can tell he’s exhausted even from this distance, but still, there he is. 

It’s as if no one else is in the entire stadium. The itch is back but in the best kind of way and Wakatoshi feels like he could take on an entire army, legs made of lead or not.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at bicycleS_20 on twitter and bicyclestandard on tumblr


End file.
